


Hidden In Plain Sight

by turps



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-18
Updated: 2009-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-03 06:49:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/pseuds/turps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank likes to be watched.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hidden In Plain Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at bandomkinkmeme at live journal.

Frank hands his guitar to the nearest tech and gives a last triumphant wave to the audience before leaving the stage. He steps over the trailing cables and kicks aside a pink boa, one of the feathers floating upwards and sticking to the damp skin of his knee. Backstage is packed with people and Frank slaps hands with a wide-eyed contest winner who's trying to appear cool while almost vibrating in place. Her hand is clammy and Frank grins when he hears her squeal as she's led away.

"You're a fucking maniac!" he yells and pounces at Gerard, who's still riding a wave of adrenalin, sweat-soaked and unable to stand still as he rubs at his neck with a white towel. "What the fuck was that at the front? I thought you were going into the fucking crowd."

Gerard starts rubbing at his hair and grins at Frank through the folds of the towel. "I thought about it, throwing myself in and being spat out all bones. It would have been fucking amazing."

"Jesus Christ." Frank shakes his head and presses a kiss against Gerard's cheek. "No throwing yourself into the audience."

"Promise," Gerard says and brings his hand up in some kind of dorky scout promise, which makes Frank laugh and try to bite at his fingers, because seriously, like Gerard was ever a boy scout. Which is something Frank has to bring up and he nuzzles against Gerard's neck.

"You're not a boy scout."

"And you're not a limpet," Gerard replies, even though he's making no attempt to prise Frank away. "I need to go change my pants, these are cutting my fucking balls off."

Frank reaches down and hooks his fingers through the rip in the crotch of Gerard's pants. He swallows, remembering how it felt to press his mouth against that rip, threads against his lips, his knees against the hard stage, the swelling roar of the crowd as Gerard grabbed hold of Frank's hair and tugged, making Frank moan as he ground against his guitar. The memories are so vivid, the sheer rush of being watched that Frank's getting hard now, and he inhales sharply, instinctively moving to straddle Gerard's leg.

"Wrong Way," Gerard says, sounding amused as he turns them around so Frank can see Mikey. He's talking to some tech and his t-shirt is sodden, clinging to his back like a second skin and as they watch he laughs, pushing back his hair. Abruptly Frank steps away from Gerard, holding himself still until finally, _finally_ the tech leaves.

"Going now," Gerard says, and even though Frank's not looking at him he can _hear_ the fucker's smile.

His whole body tense, Frank waits for the perfect moment and then springs, running forward and jumping at Mikey, who staggers back before hitting a wall. They've ended up behind one of the tall speakers, partially sheltered but nowhere near hidden, and Frank can hear people walking past. Hell, if he cranes his head he can see some of the audience, a sea of black figures coming down from the end of the show.

"Hi." Mikey's mouth is curved at the corner as he looks down at Frank and says levelly. "You were nuzzling my brother's crotch again."

"I was," Frank agrees, and presses close, needing the friction as he rubs himself against Mikey's leg. He reaches up and grabs hold of Mikey's hair, tugging so Mikey bends down, his mouth next to Frank's. "I licked his inner thigh and tasted his sweat, and all the time I was thinking of you."

"Pervert," Mikey breathes, and he bites at Frank's bottom lip, teeth digging in sharp, then says, "Getting off on being watched, thousands of people there as you fuck your guitar. That's what you want isn't it? To fuck onstage."

Frank whimpers, uncaring of how desperate he sounds as he tightens his hold on Mikey's hair, keeping him in place as they kiss. It's something Frank loves to do, his whole body prickling with sensation as he starts gently with feather-light touches, then increases the pace until he's fucking Mikey's mouth with his tongue. His lips crushed against Mikey's Frank loosens his grip, keeping one hand cupped against the back of Mikey's head while he worms the other between their bodies.

Frank pulls back slightly, spit trailing down his chin as he fumbles one-handed at Mikey's belt buckle. "That's exactly what I want. I want to touch you on stage, strip you down and fuck you until you scream."

"Yeah?" Mikey gasps as his belt falls open and Frank tugs at the zipper of his pants. "Who says you could make me scream?"

"Because I know you," Frank says, and he impatiently pushes aside the fabric of Mikey's underwear, loving the way Mikey's breathing hard and the way he shudders when Frank finally gets to his dick, palming it in his hand. "Because I know everything about you."

"Really?" Mikey draws out the question, then the word is strangled in a groan as Frank starts jerking him off with short abrupt strokes.

They're pressed so close that Frank can't get up any real rhythm, but he doesn't pull back because this isn't about perfection or leaving Mikey uncomfortably exposed. It's about being in public and pushing a line, about people seeing but never the details, about baring all while not at all. Frank licks up Mikey's neck, over the sharp line of his jaw to his mouth, kisses him briefly and says, "I know you like to be fucked on your hands and knees, and I'd do that, right there on stage, your face against the filthy ground."

Frank feels dizzy as he pictures being on stage, fucking Mikey to the beat of Bob's drums, the audience on their feet and screaming as Frank thrusts in hard. He imagines Ray, grinding against his own guitar and Gerard singing, hand outstretched and gaze intent, watching his little brother be fucked. It's almost overwhelming, imagination combining with the reality of Mikey so close, the way he's got his head tilted back and hands gripping Frank's shoulders, as if anchoring himself to the ground.

"Mikey. Jesus." Frank manages to say, and then he's sucking at Mikey's neck while pushing the pace of his strokes as much as he can. It's a combination that makes Mikey tremble and Frank knows that he's close, is barely hanging on as with a last stroke Mikey stiffens, and Frank bites down on his neck; hard.

"Fuck," Mikey says weakly, slumping slightly as Frank grabs him around the waist and holds on, his ear against Mikey's chest, listening as his heart beat slows. A distraction against the fact that Frank's hand is covered in jizz and he's creamed his pants -- again.


End file.
